


Oi!

by orphan_account



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 13:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15195644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “So what’s wrong with you, dude?” Charlie asks Dennis.Anonymous prompt fill: charlie and dennis’s first kiss. Set immediately after Mac Kills His Dad.





	Oi!

Dennis is standing in the back office of Paddy’s pub, alone. He’s shirtless, and he’s staring at the garish blue “Life Is Happy” t-shirt in his hands, tracing over the words with his fingers.

At least that’s how Charlie finds him, and it confuses Charlie, because it certainly is a massive departure from how he left Dennis earlier; not on any sort of moral high ground, just annoyed about not getting Ponderosa’s insurance money. And Charlie, shit, Charlie didn’t ask for any of this; he had just wanted to decompress and calm down using his coping strategies.

Can of his coping mechanism in one hand, sock in the other, he stands awkwardly in the doorway of the back office, staring at Dennis. “Whatcha doin, man?”

Dennis looks up and blinks, as if coming out of a trance. “Oh- Nothing. Nothing.”

“Well.” Charlie breathes. “If you’re not doing anything, I kinda need the space in here.”

Dennis frowns, setting down the shirt. “Did you come in here to jerk off?”

“What?” Charlie squints. “No, man, I got other- I’m-”

Dennis spies the paint can in Charlie’s hands, and says, “Ah.”

Charlie is silent.

“You told us you were going off that shit, man,” Dennis says, not really accusatory, just- conversational.

Charlie sprays some into the sock and takes a huge huff. “I did indeed, buddy.”

Dennis looks at the floor, and quietly asks, “Mind if I join you?”

Charlie shakes his head and hands Dennis the sock. They’re quiet for a moment, peaceful even, leaning against the desk, sharing the paint, possessing more of a camaraderie than they normally do.

“So what’s wrong with you, dude?” Charlie asks Dennis.

“What do you mean?” Dennis takes one more ragged inhale out of the sock. “I’m fine.”

“Dude, when I walked in here, you had that look on your face you get when you’re really fucked up.” Charlie, today, he does not feel like tolerating Dennis’s poorly masked cries for help.

“We’re getting really fucked up right now,” Dennis points out.

“Not like-” Charlie sucks in a breath. “Not like, high, dude, like you feel like the world is in flames. When you get really dramatic over shit.”

Dennis gazes into the distance thoughtfully, and Charlie can’t tell if he’s seriously considering his answer or just trying to look like the protagonist of an indie film. “Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off if I was more like Bill Ponderosa.”

“Why the fuck would you ever wanna be like Bill Ponderosa?”

Dennis tilts his head. “He just goes around doing all the drugs that he wants, not trying in life in any way, y’know? Just kinda-” Dennis makes a wave motion with his hands. “Going with the flow, not caring what people think of him. No expectations to live up to.”

Charlie, objectively, know he’s pretty stupid, but even he can read people, and he knows Dennis has unrealized dreams of glory; he’s never realistic about anything, he always shoots too high and ends up giving up and settling almost immediately, at a complete dead end in life still trying to amaze everyone around him somehow. He’s sometimes the only reason the gang has any ambition at all.

“For Bill,” Dennis continues, “Life is happy. And the moment he decides it’s not, he very calmly and rationally decides to end it.” Dennis’s tone is so brusque that it sends chills down Charlie’s spine, and Charlie, rather than address what he just said, feels a pressing need to redirect the conversation.

“So you wanna go back on crack? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, dude, I-” Dennis rolls his eyes heavenward. “Y’know what, fuck me for trying. How bout you, buddy? What’s wrong with you?”

“Same, old, same old,” Charlie says casually, feeling something incredibly anxious bubble up in his chest.

“I mean, why are you huffing that much paint?” Shit, if Dennis can’t read people almost as well as Charlie can. In that way, they kinda match: same ability to understand people’s body language and tone, same aptitude for manipulation. Maybe it’s why Dennis has always underestimated him. Maybe Dennis has never realized on how much equal footing they actually are.

“Y’know how my mom’s a giant whore,” Charlie says.

“Mhm.” Dennis sets down both the sock and paint can he’s holding and studies his nails casually. “Of course, my mother was a paragon of virtue in every way, so I can’t personally relate, but I am aware of your circumstance.”

Charlie would snort in reply, say something about how she fucked Mac and probably shortly thereafter contracted gonorrhea, but he feels like his throat is closing up and he’s fading away from his surroundings. Barely, over the sound of his heartbeat in his own ears, he hears a “Charlie, dude, are you okay?” but doesn’t answer it, just stares at the floor.

His mother, bringing home guy after guy. Mostly the santas, sometimes other dudes, but every time he would get high to block it all out, and afterwards bury it deep down and try to pretend he didn’t understand what was happening, or hear the noises, sometimes her shrill cries of pain.

Dennis tips Charlie’s head up with his fingers so he’s looking at Dennis, and Charlie still feels his heart racing like he’s back on coke. “Dennis, Dennis,” he says frantically.

“Oi!” Dennis barks sharply in response. He keeps going. “Oi! Oi! Oi! Oi!” Charlie finds it’s easy to connect with the rhythmic pattern, the steady spaces between the words, kinda like music, and as he joins Dennis in the chanting, he feels the panic in his heart slowly subside, and their yelling drifts to a halt.

“Are you gonna be okay?” Dennis whispers. The way he’s looking at Charlie sends a jolt through him. It’s not the predatory way Dennis looks at him or mostly Mac, it’s something softer, maybe genuine concern.

“Yeah,” Charlie whispers back, eyes meeting his. Then his eyes are closing and all of a sudden Dennis’s mouth is on his, firm and steady, helping just a little more to bring Charlie back to reality. Dennis has nice lips. Charlie’s heart isn’t somersaulting in his chest, but he’s feeling calm, relaxed, in control.

Maybe Dennis can delude himself into thinking he’s taking advantage of Charlie, somehow, distort this moment into one of his warped power struggles, or maybe he’s convincing himself that by kissing such a filthy, lowly creature such as Charlie, he’s pulling his own Ponderosa, sinking as low as he pleases and abandoning all the high expectations he must live up to at all times.

Charlie doesn’t care how Dennis copes with it, because he knows the truth; he’s kissing someone who is his equal in every way. He’s kissing someone who holds no power over him. He’s kissing someone who makes him feel safe.


End file.
